The final sections of the new Mass translation have been approved.  Will it be perfect?  Probably not.  Will it be an improvement?  Probably.  Crossing my fingers for an implementation date of sometime in 2010.  Holding off on buying a new missal until then…

I love the Liturgy of the Hours (LOTH).  I haven’t always been and am not always very consistent when it comes to praying it.  But that is because I am not very consistent at anything generally, and am not very consistent at praying specifically.  But any semblance of consistency at prayer that has developed over the last few years has almost exclusively been due to the LOTH. 

My interest in this type of prayer began prior to converting when I read a book by Philip Yancey, though I am not sure which one.  In it, he described arid periods in his prayer life in which the only thing he could do was read pre-composed prayers.  I believe he also commented that ones that he had used were composed by Lancelot Andrewes, an Anglican divine of the 17th Century.  My prayer life being characterized at the time as a state of continual and everlasting aridity, I quickly snapped up the idea.  I found his prayers on-line, edited them for modern day language, shortened them significantly, and made them more consistent (I think) in terms of their structure.  I read those prayers every day as long as I was in the Episcopal Church.  Part of the motivation, I think, was doing something new.  Not just new to me, though it was, but also new to my circle of friends and family.  There was a sense of going against the grain of my surroundings, and also of rediscovering practices of the past, even if it was, in this case, the Protestant past. 

But also, the increased structure of this type of prayer helped me immensely to just do it.  There was no need to try to come up with a steady stream of stream-of-consciousness words, non-repetitive in nature, at 5:00 am.  I could get up and do it.  There was surely some time of “personal prayer” incorporated, but it didn’t need to occupy the whole time.  I could finally pray, offer a significant chunk of my time to God, first thing in the day.  Over time, this has developed into a pretty strong habit.  Not one that I necessarily have adhered to with alarming consistency, but one that I certainly notice when I don’t do it.  It now takes a deliberate act of the will to omit my prayers, as opposed to the opposite.  I do, though, deliberately will to omit them more than I should.

I had been exposed to the writings of Kathleen Norris also, around the same time.  She is one of those Protestants who is very open to co-opting “whatever works”, and is thus very open to the goodness of certain Catholic traditions and practices.  Her books are often structured around the rhythms of the LOTH, and so I developed an intense fascination with the concept of regular, rhythmic prayers that followed a seasonal structure.

So all of this was fertile soil for the time when I was first exposed to the LOTH, during our weekly RCIA meetings.  Every Monday night, we would end our meeting with Night Prayer, with various people filling in the various roles.  In hindsight, having multiple people doing different parts made it more confusing than it needed to be.  But we all eventually caught on.  And I have never looked back.  My own cobbled-together Lancelot-based prayers went in the trash. 

For my birthday, which was 8 days post-conversion, I received the Shorter Christian Prayer, which I used regularly.  But before long, I upgraded to the larger Christian Prayer book.  But it later came to my attenton that I was missing the Office of Readings, which contains great season-appropriate readings from the Church Fathers.  So I slowly purchased the complete set of the LOTH, two books for Ordinary Time, one for Advent and Christmas, and one for Lent and Easter.  Surely that was it.  But no, it came to my attention last year that there is a Psalter out there that makes it easier to chant the liturgy.  And so I purchased the Mundelein Psalter.  Very cool.  Though it is difficult to chant at 5:30 am.  My voice stinks most of the time, but is particularly bad in the early morning, while trying to mute the sound so as not to wake the children.  So I don’t use that all that much, except when I am trying to change things up a bit.

I suppose learning the structure of the LOTH is a bit of a challenge, but there are plenty of websites to help (this one helped me a lot back in the day).  One of the hardest things for me, and one that I still need to look at the instructions for, is to figure which parts to say on specific feast days.  Depending on whether it’s a feast, a memorial, an optional memorial etc, different psalms are supposed to be recited.  I did it wrong for years before figuring out there was a rule.  Also, Night Prayer typically ends with a Marian antiphon.  And I have heard whispers of rumors that there are specific antiphons designated, maybe not officially, but perhaps traditionally, for specific seasons.  But I am not sure.  Also, none of the recent saints (e.g., Padre Pio) have an office yet.  Maybe that will change soon, I dunno.  Lastly, some of the translations, especially of the Bible readings in the Office of Readings, are horrendous. 

That said, without the LOTH, my soul would wither and die.  It is my lifeline to God, the only assured means of keeping the lines of communication open for me.  Other’s mileage will vary.

I have been surpised about how little play the whole Father Cutie incident has received in Catholic circles.  It is true that I don’t check that many blogs anymore, and so it possible that I have simply missed the discussion.  However, it certainly received play in the MSM.  Which is to be expected.  A hot Catholic priest from South Beach leaves the Church over indiscretions of a vow-breaking nature, joins the Episcopal Church (!), and marries his little lady.  This irks me on so many levels. 

1) I have attended Mass at his parish.  He was a good priest.  He had a huge and orthodox (if perhaps a bit mushy) ministry.  He was hot, celibate and orthodox.  He was a poster child for a vibrant, young, relevant Catholicism.  He was one of us.  So I feel slightly more betrayed by him than when some loony Shera of a priest goes all Episcopagan.

2) Episcopalian?  Really?  Specifically, in a diocese that…blows.  This is the more disturbing part for me.  It betrays such a fundamental lack of understanding of who and what he was and still is.  They have no Holy Orders.  No Eucharist.  They affirm pretty much every Pelvic Disorder.  Which, of course, they are free to do.  I don’t care what Episcopalians do, but I do care that an apparently good and orthodox and dynamic Catholic priest can so easily be led to repudiate (charitably interpreted) what he once held dear. 

Now he’s in an invalid marriage, and once he is “ordained” he will be illicitly confecting and distributing the Eucharist (provided form, matter and intent are maintained).  May Our Lord grant this man repentance and clarity.

In my job search, I have applied for numerous positions that have been posted by recruiters.  I have yet to have a good experience with a single one of them.  They are degrading pests.  The typical run will go something like this: Apply for the job; speak to the recruiter; be told how great I am and how sure he is they’ll want to talk to me; ask me to forward a slightly modified version of the resume; forward said version; never hear from them again.

I understand that they are in it to make money, and like everyone else, they have to prioritize their activities.  However, there is a slight difference, in that they are dealing in human hopes, dreams, fears and sorrows.  The way you, O Pestilent Nuissance, treat the potential job candidate should be a priority.  They should be treated with respect, the minimum amount of respect being a a short email saying something like, “sorry, it didn’t work out, we’ll keep you in mind.”  That took me 30 seconds to write.  It could take you less, if you copied and pasted it from the last such email you sent.  The point being, it wouldn’t take much of an investment of time to actually do someone the courtesy of letting them know that things didn’t work out.  And, mark this, doing it would set you apart from the pack of other Pestilent Nuissances as Someone To Recommend And Work With In The Future, If Possible.

However, the Pestilent Nuissance Syndrome was taken to a whole new level of unprofessionalism by one Solon Frazilus.  I have a few other things on my plate right now, and so I removed my name from consideration for a job in North Jersey.  Plus, once I saw the job description, which they withold until you’ve already applied, I figured out that I was waaaaay underqualified.  There’s a reason people pay other people twice what they pay me.  And it ain’t dumb luck.  So, and note this, I contacted him to let him know I was no longer interested, because, you know, that’s common courtesy.  And he wrote back:

You have six years of experience in human health toxicology and risk assessments.  You also have exposure to OTC products, the appropriate regulatory bodies and have the required degree.  Additionally, when we spoke you said that you were comfortable relocating to northern NJ.  Based on this information and how you chose to respond, I have to assume that you decided to approach them directly.

Solon Frazilus, PHR

Uh, no, actually.  I’m not a Pestilent Nuissance.  Nor am I an unprofessional hack.  I don’t lie to people to manipulate them for my ends.  I don’t scheme and back-door people.  But seen as that is how you treat people, I can see why you expect people to treat you that way.  You should try taking your clients at their word.  You unprofessional hack.

As I said previously, everyone just keeps bringing up the Science Trump Card without, you know, actually talking about science.  But, trust them, they heard it from a friend’s neighbor’s mother’s postman’s scientist niece that Science says so.  So it must be true.

That would be my eye.  Not because I’m staying up until ridiculous hours of the night applying for jobs.  But rather because I am (kinda) like that evil master Sauron, scanning the Protestant world looking for goofiness.  I see all.  I hear all.  All bend to me.  Or something.

Actually, I am not really scanning.  I have a few websites I frequent because of some previous-life connection.  This one is because he was a very close friend of mine my senior year in high school.  He is now a pastor of a church in Maryland.

So anyway, his post is entitled “James’ view of the Bible”, and contains the following section:

What did [James] think of the Bible? He tells us in the letter he wrote. In James 1:18, we see that he believed it was truth. In this same passage, James tells us that the Word is the means of regeneration — new birth (James 1:18, 21). The Word acts as a mirror, showing us our defects (James 1:23-25). It is our guide for living today (James 2:8), and will serve as the standard for judgment in the future (James 2:12). Finally, in James’ most famous passage, he tells us that we must not merely be hearers of this great Word—we must be doers as well (James 1:22). May James’ attitude—and the attitude of all who know and fear God—be ours this year.

It will suffice to look at merely the first example given: James 1:18.  What does James 1:18 tell us about his view of “the Bible”?  Not much, really, seen as the Bible is not the subject of the quote:

Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth that we should be a kind of first fruits of his creatures.

In fact, what my friend seems to have done is conflated the “word of truth” with “the Bible”, but they are, in fact, not the same thing.  The image that is being used by St James is reminiscent of the first few chapters of the book of Genesis, where God creates the universe by speaking it into existence.  In the same way, he re-creates mankind by speaking him into existence.  The Gospel of St John takes this image of the creative action of God’s spoken word, and identifies that word as the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity, who has now been incarnate.  I think it is to go too far to say that St James is here speaking of Jesus as the “word of truth”.  Rather he is using an image for our re-creation in Christ, one that conveys that, as with the universe, we were re-created out of nothing, bringing nothing of our own to the project.  “Word of truth” is thus a Genesean (???) image used to depict our utter dependence on God’s saving action.

This word transcends all human capacities.  And yet we are not left completely in the dark, for this creative word, this infinite and eternal speech of God has revealed Himself.  As was mentioned above, he was incarnate.  And so the full revelation of the “word of truth” is the incarnated Second Person: Jesus of Nazareth.

This is not to denigrate the Bible.  I agree wholeheartedly with my friend’s sentiment that the Bible should be read, studied, meditated upon and lived.  It contains the only Holy Spirit-attested recollections of Our Lord’s life.  It contains  truth and manifests truth.  But it is not the Truth.  It contains and manifests the word of life.  But it is not the Word of Life.  The same could be said for Apostolic Tradition, but this is not that stale post.

Incidentally, “word of truth” also couldn’t be the Bible, because the Bible did not yet exist.  Parts of the NT had not even been written at this point, let alone collated into a series of canonized books.  And St James would not have been aware, and probably would have bristled at the idea, that this letter he was writing would someday be elevated to an equal, if not even superior status to that of the OT writings.

“Be not deceived, Wormwood, our cause is never more in jeopardy than when a human, no longer desiring but still intending to do our Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe in which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.” –C.S. Lewis, “The Screwtape Letters”

Our friend from over at 1517 has relocated to the area.  Welcome.  In perusing his fine website, I ran across the following statement:

In the sixteenth century, Luther stood his ground where Paul, many centuries earlier, had done so. Despite the light that the New Perspective claims to have cast on Paul’s doctrine, I am still persuaded that Luther actually got it right and that Paul thought about justification as the church, following Luther, has always judged that he did and not as the New Perspective now imagines. The Judaizers then and the medieval in Luther’s day alike thought that by the keeping of the law, salvation could be merited. Paul first, then Luther later, rejected this, and Luther rejected it because Paul had done so. The reason, quite simply, was their far deeper, far more realistic, and, indeed, far more biblical reckoning with the depths of human sin, its pervasiveness, and the innate corruption it has wrought throughout human nature. How, then, are humans to render up an obedience to the law which is not itself corrupt? The apple of our best works, while rosy and attractive on the outside, is always inhabited by a worm that has destroyed it from within.

It is true that some medievals thought that salvation could be “merited”.  In fact, non-medieval contemporary Catholics also believe that salvation can be “merited”, since it is what the Catholic Church teaches.  And also happens to be what the Catholic Church has always taught, at least from the time of St. Augustine.  And that is because it was the teaching of St. Augustine, the Doctor of Grace himself, that salvation could be “merited”.  The current catechism has a short section on merit, quoting St. Augustine, the Council of Trent, and St. Therese of Lisieux.

So, is it true then that this means that Luther and Paul were more “biblical” than the Medievals and Non-Medievals (MaNoM)?  Well, the first course of action would be to check out what the Catholic Church actually teaches about merit.  More precisely, does the Catholic Church teach, as the above quote certainly implies, that our works are good enough to get to heaven on our own steam?  Let us peruse that short section on merit, then, shall we?

First, the section starts of with a quote from St. Augustine, which pretty well sums up the entire Church teaching on merit:

You are glorified in the assembly of your Holy Ones, for in crowning their merits you are crowning your own gifts.

The Catholic Church does teach that God “recompenses” (i.e., rewards; cf. CCC 2006) our actions with “the graces needed for our sanctification, for the increase of grace and charity, and for the attainment of eternal life” (cf. CCC 2010).  Oy.  That does sound really bad.  It almost warrants reckless throwing of the P-word.  But wait!  There’s more to the story.  Our Protestant friends usually miss the next part of the story.  A series of caveats, if you will, that significantly alter the shape of the story.

Caveat 1: With regard to God, there is no strict right to any merit on the part of man. Between God and us there is an immeasurable inequality, for we have received everything from him, our Creator (CCC 2007).

That’s really pretty self-explanatory and obvious.  God is, you know, the eternally self-existent entity from whom we have received our entire being.  We have no rights, in the strict sense, for we have received everything as gift.  I think this statement by the catechism really gets to the root of the charge that is brought against the Catholic Church in the above quote.  I think our interlocutor really does think we think that we can place God in our debt.  The idea that we can is ludicrous.  And the notion that we think that is equally so.

Caveat 2: Since the initiative belongs to God in the order of grace, no one can merit the initial grace of forgiveness and justification, at the beginning of conversion (CCC 2010).

This is also a pretty significant statement, seen as it establishes that our salvation is entirely dependent upon God’s “initiative”.  This is the catechism referring to “operative” grace, that which precedes any cooperation on our part.  Without it, we would remain dead in our sins.  Without the prevenient operation of God’s grace in our souls, we would perish. This again undercuts the vague implication above that Catholics are unaware of the “biblical” data concerning man’s rotten state of affairs.

Caveat 3: [T]he merit of good works is to be attributed in the first place to the grace of God, then to the faithful. Man’s merit, moreover, itself is due to God, for his good actions proceed in Christ, from the predispositions and assistance given by the Holy Spirit (CCC 2008).

This is the part where the fullness of St. Augustine’s teaching is captured.  “In crowning their merits you are crowning your own gifts.”  According to Augustine and the Catholic Church, man’s merits are “due to God” for they are his “gifts”, from the work of the Holy Spirit in predisposing us for and assisting us in our works (cf. Eph 2:10).

Caveat 4: The merit of man before God in the Christian life arises from the fact that God has freely chosen to associate man with the work of his grace (CCC 2008).

Having established that there is no “strict right” to merit on man’s part, and that God’s grace precedes all merit, the Church then goes on to say that God nevertheless “freely chooses” to work with us.  We are God’s co-workers (cf. 1 Cor 3:9).  In his grace, he chooses to work with us.  And thus our merits are his gifts.  In other words, our merits do not bring us to God, but they flow from a freely-given relationship with him.

Really, what the teaching of the Church about merits is seeking to preserve is the “biblical” understanding that God rewards his children.  It seems strange to think that the Bible teaches us that God rewards us for what we do.  But it does.  The Synoptic Gospels are littered with promises of God rewarding us:

• [Y]our Father who sees in secret [i.e., that you have given alms in secret] will reward you (Mat 6:4)
• [W]hoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ, will by no means lose his reward (Mark 9:41)
• [L]eap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven (Luke 6:23)

If Jesus taught us about our rewards, certainly St. Paul does too:

• Whatever your task, work heartily, as serving the Lord and not men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward (Col 3:23-24)
• If the work which any man has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward (1 Cor 3:14)
• [W]hoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him. (Heb 11:6)

And St. John too:

• Look to yourselves, that you may not lose what you have worked for, but may win a full reward (2 John 1:8)
• The nations raged, but thy wrath came, and the time for the dead to be judged, for rewarding thy servants, the prophets and saints, and those who fear thy name, both small and great, and for destroying the destroyers of the earth. (Rev 11:18)

OK.  So, granted that the notion of reward is “biblical”.  God rewards us for our works.  But how do we understand this “reward” if we are also told, as we are, that our works are as “filthy rags”, or that “without me you can do nothing”?  The simple solution, and it is the one that St. Augustine worked out and the one that the Catholic Church has held since then, is that, apart from God’s “predispositions and assistance” (i.e., the working of the Holy Spirit), our works are “destroyed from within” (to quote our interlocutor).  However, endowed with the mighty power of the Holy Spirit working within us, our works are worthy of being rewarded.  Which is to say, our works “merit” a reward, “for God is at work in [us], both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (cf. Phil 2:13).  This Catholic understanding of merit is really the only way to do full justice to the biblical data that our works will be rewarded, even though (without the power of Christ) they are “dead”.

Obamaphile Doug Kmiec received a lot of flack (and rightly so) for his support of the Glorious One.  Looks like he may be receiving his 30 shekels.  Let’s hope for him that the analogy ends there…

One of the most outspoken opponents of Robert Mugabe has been silenced by the Vatican just as the regime in Zimbabwe is at its weakest and his leadership would be most valuable.

Pius Ncube resigned as Archbishop of Bulawayo and left Zimbabwe in September 2007 after he was filmed sleeping with a married woman who was employed by the regime as a “honeytrap”. He returned last month after spending a year in exile in Rome and Britain, but the Roman Catholic Church has forbidden him from making any political statements.

If the above is true, then Brother Pius, I can’t understand why you say this:

[Pius] agreed that the gagging order meant that the Mugabe regime had succeeded in neutralising one of its most prominent critics. As archbishop, Mr Ncube repeatedly denounced Mr Mugabe’s misrule, championed nonviolent opposition to the Government, and defied death threats.

I would seem, Brother Pius, that the success of the Mugabe regime in neutralizing you was achieved, not so much when the Vatican silenced you, but rather when you fell into the “honeytrap”.  It would seem, perhaps, dear Brother Pius, that you may be projecting a tiny smidge of the blame somewhere other than where it really belongs.  And in so doing, if the report is true, you have then played, not only into the hands of the Mugabe regime, but also into the hands of the Press, to whom you have now handed another “Vatican cracks down…” story.  It would seem that, perhaps, an Archbishop who fell into a “honeytrap” (I love that!) should be even a little more silent than he already has been.  And maybe the Vatican was onto something.

But enjoy your 15 minutes, brother.  ‘Cause it comes on the Vatican’s dime.  ‘Cause you can be sure no one would ever have payed any attention to you if you had been just another sleazy bishop.  But now you’re The Maverick, The Prophet, The Silenced Voice in the Wilderness.  Like I say, enjoy it.

Brother.